The Ultimate Price
by Madame Hatter
Summary: [postRent] Oneshot. Mark is spotted hanging on life's thread, blood gauging through pricks of his skin. Reactions are unbearable, and we learn more about how important he was to everyone [please read and review] Roger's POV


**Author's Note: My first one-shot _Forget Regret_ inspired me to write another one-shot, Roger again. He's a great speaker for me. I hope you liked this one too. Please read and review. One-shots are new for me, so I need all the help, criticism, comments from you readers.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Rent. This is for Jonathon Larson. **

It was our first year anniversary, and I couldn't have been more gladdened. The sun was out, the flowers were bloomed, and my guitar was on-tune. Could it get any better? Y-e-e-s! It was our very first anniversary. We never thought we'd live to see the day, but we did. Mimi and I have been married for one glorious, remarkable year.

So it took me by complete surprise when I got the call.

"You off to school?" I asked my wife, grinning. We both knew the answer. It became pretty obvious when she left every morning, five days a week. But I always liked asking, just so she can feed off the glow of pride in my eyes. And she loved answering.

"Yes sir!" she said excitedly. "Today we're going learn about Demeter and the lost of her daughter Pers... Pars... Persoph... that one chica."

I laughed. I didn't know much about ancient gods, but I was pretty sure that her daughter wasn't a "chica." They had been learning about Greek and Roman mythology for a while in her literature class, and she couldn't get over how interesting it was. She claimed that if there was a New York back in the old days, it would be Olympus, where the gods dwelled. Gays, straights, scandals, ten hundred partners- she even said that Zeus was a real player! Aw, she made me smile. I was so proud of her.

"How's work?" she asked. This wasn't an uncommon question. Gee, isn't married life great?

"Peachy, my lovely darling," I said with a high-classed accent. "The stockbroker called this morning with the news. We're filthy rich!"

She laughed, and I smiled. I was glad that Mimi was the type of girl who didn't care about money, or high-priced materials. Economic-wise, we understood each other, and we knew that there were going to be hard days where money wasn't rolling in. Especially because she was going to school, and I had to be the sole-provider. But I didn't mind. Anything to make her happy, to make us happy.

"Actually, work's fine," I answered properly. "The club's doing well, I didn't realize how much attraction it's been getting ever since we added Kareoke Night. People seem to love their kareoke."

"And that's really been bringing in the dough?"

"Oh yeah. Surprising huh? Of course, I have to pay the price by going through a series of Star Search rejects, piercing these off-key notes, as the walls echo their cries, but if it brings in the green, I say: scream away!" I lifted by glass of juice, toasted the air, and took a sip.

The phone rang. Mimi and I looked at it, and I got up to answer it. Strange, we never get morning calls. Everyone knew we were off in the morning, who would even try?

"Hello?" I spoke into the receiver.

"Roger? Roger."

"Who's this?" It was a man's voice, but it was muffled. I couldn't make it out.

"Collins," the other line breathed.

"Collins! Hey, you sound a bit tired. Is everything all right?"

"Get down here." My heart stopped. What was going on?

"Where, man? What's wrong?" I asked lowly, hoping not to worry Mimi, who was trying to eavesdrop from the table.

"I'm at the hospital. Get here as fast as you could. Bring Mimi."

"Okay, I'm on my way." I tossed the phone back to its place, and grabbed my jacket from the closet. Mimi stood up, looking confused. This had to be urgent. I handed Mimi her coat just as she asked what the matter was. "Can you miss school for one day?"

"Um, I guess. Why, where are we going?" I grabbed Mimi's wrist and locked the door on the way out. I didn't have time to answer her question. Something terrible had definitely happened to Collins.

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I couldn't talk for at least an hour. Not even to my own wife. Of all days, of all the fucking days of the year, why did he have to pick our anniversary?

"Honey..." Mimi whispered, but I couldn't speak, I couldn't talk to her. I was absolutely speechless. What the hell was I supposed to think at a time like this?

When we arrived at the hospital, Collins was standing outside. I needed some fresh air, he said palely. The first thought that went through my mind was, all right Collins isn't hurt. Not physically anyway. Then who was? He lead us into the hospital, and I couldn't get a word out of him edgewise. He stuttered every word so each sound he made was incoherent gibberish. Something really must have shook him up to be acting this way. What was it? I tried to wonder, but I almost pissed my pants. I was so scared. Mimi was too. Squeezing my hand tight, she vociferated a few worried squeaks now and again.

Collins stopped in the middle of the hallway. He bent over, his hands on his knees. He shook his head, and gestured his hand away. He couldn't take it anymore. What the hell was wrong? He turned away and pointed to a door not too far away. I told Mimi to stay with Collins. I thought I'd better go in first to see how much damage it would cause for her.

I opened the door slowly, hoping not to wake anyone. I got the door wide enough for me to slip in. It was a private room. A man was lying on his back, tubes in and out of his skin, his body as pale as the white on the sheets. Slowly, I walked over to get a better look of his face. I nearly keeled over.

A lurching twist writhed in my stomach. It felt like I was kicked hard. I've lived in New York for a long time, and yet nothing was as gory, as horrific as that scene, in that room.I couldn't breathe for a full minute, and I needed to look away. I needed to draw my eyes away from what was on that bed. From _who _was on that bed.

"Mark," I breathed, hoping he could hear me. What the fuck happened to him? I tried to collect my courage, enough of it anyway to stand beside him. It was the hardest thing I had to look at. My heart grieved heavily, and it felt like I was suffocating for air. This wasn't right. Why him? He didn't seem like the person to beaten to death. I looked at him more closely.

Trying not to gag, I tried to figure out what kind of demon would come out of the Earth and attack a good guy like Mark. His face was badly scarred, with bruises of violet peering out the bandages that probably kept his skin intact. He was in a stiff position, as if one gentle move would break him. His lip was torn, a few stitches were seen beneath his once pearly teeth, now chipped terribly. His eyes were closed, as if he was never going to wake again. At least, I thanked God, his chest was moving up and down, reassuring that he still lived. The irritating beep that once annoyed me whenever I came to this godforsaken hospital, rang from a nearby corner. The beep was now my hope for Mark's life. It was his heartbeat.

The door slowly opened, and I lifted my head to see who it was. Mimi peeked from behind, curiously waiting for me to step outside. I didn't know what to do at that moment. It felt like I had been paralyzed. She crept inside to peer over at the bed, Collins watching steadily from behind.

"Mimi- no!" I hissed, fearing for her reaction. Too late. Her eyes widened at the sight of Mark's dilapidated body, and screamed. I stood up instantly, and Collins held her back from screaming again.

"Mimi..." That's all I could say. She looked at me starry-eyed, then turned her head back at the bed.

"Mark! Mark..." She said it as if it couldn't possibly be him. Collins pulled her back from screaming again. I grabbed her arms, becalming her. She was shaking, and her jaw dropped as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Mimi, shh..." I said softly, as we lead her out of the room. Luckily I was in front of her so I blocked the view of the terrible room we had entered.

"Mark...Mark.." she kept saying. "He..."

"Mimi..."

"But, he's...Mark is..." she stuttered, trying to look over my shoulder.

"Shhh..." I tried to give her as much serenity as I possibly could. I hugged her tightly, wrapping my arms around her tiny body. I tried my best to be the solace that she needed. I petted her gently, laying my face on top of her head, cradling her from side to side. This couldn't be happening. He was all right, wasn't he? I mean, Mark's a strong, young guy. He can get through this. He's healthy, he can survive this. I know he can.

After a few minutes of crying and hysterics, Collins managed to get us to sit in the waiting room and simmer down for a while. The nurse escorted Mimi to get some coffee, as I dwelled on my thoughts for a while. Collins explained what happened. Nothing special. Nothing unordinary. A drunk driver and an innocent victim, which just happened to be Mark. Hit and run. Who would hit and run like that? Collins found him. _Collins _found him. I don't even know what I would have done if I were the one to have found him. I'd probably have gone mad. His camera was smashed into pieces. His stupid scarf shredded. A river of blood had led Collins to the scene of the crime. And there he saw Mark, his body twisted unbelievably, drowning in a pool of blood.

Random memories had passed, and here I sat, Mimi beside me. We'd been here for hours. Collins had called Maureen and Joanne, but Joanne was gone, and Maureen was too afflicted to come over. Of all the fucking days of the year... Mark picked our anniversary. I didn't want to be angry with him. But I was devastated. I prayed that he would be okay. Take me instead. For God's sake, take the drunked driver's life instead! Why pick Mark? And it was at that time the doctor came over to confirm the news.

"I'm sorry." The doctor's voice showed sorrow. "We did everything we could. He should have died in that lot. It was like he was trying hang on, but... we couldn't...I'm sorry." I wanted to hit him. But knew it wasn't his fault.

Mimi wept long and hard. Collins said he would be the one meeting up with his parents about the funeral. Why go? It would be too depressing. He was my best friend. But I had too. I cried too once that doctor had broke the news. Mimi and I hardly talked that night, but we held each other. Knowing that I had her there in the most vulnerable moment of my life, I was grateful for that. It was hard getting up the day of his funeral. We went to a small lounge-like room for a pre-funeral forum, rented. Collins's idea. He wanted his friends and family to meet and come together to commemorate, in his words, the most "talented filmmaker, and the most caring friend everyone should have." His parents, who I remember Mark scorning every time they called, even pitched in with it. Their past didn't matter anymore. Their troubled relationship became the equivalence to nothing. No matter what, they've always loved him. The most beautiful thing was the video tribute his father had compiled. I never knew he cared.

"My son was a dreamer," he had said in front of everyone. "He always had compassion, he was trustworthy. He had a sharp eye; you knew you could trust him. He viewed the world through his camera. And though we had our differences... I was always proud of him. I will regret every day of my life from this day on for I never told him that I wouldn't have wanted a better son. I never told him I was sorry. I hope he could forgive me with this video tribute I've pieced for him. It's not much. I'm not a genius at this stuff like he was. But it's from the heart."

The video shot behind him, and although it was choppy, everyone cried. There were clips of him as a little blonde boy, scrawny, with a little toy camera, flashing every little thing he could. There were shots of him arranging stuffed animals in some fashionable order, as if setting the perfect atmosphere. Then there were shots of him in high school. There were shots of him that looked familiar, like at the Life Café. There were shots of him and Maureen. Then him and me. I turned away at those. I couldn't take it. He was really gone.

It was my turn. I was his best friend, and Collins insisted I give a eulogy as well. I didn't want to disrespect him so I accepted, but I would have done anything else. I gazed over the friends, and relatives that once knew him. I glanced over at Mimi who gave me a promising look. I swallowed my nerves, and began my final farewell.

"Mark..." I took a deep breath. "...was the most incredible friend. He taught me to always keep an open-mind, to always try new things. He was always there to listen to me, whenever I needed someone to lean on. He was selfless, always looking after others through the 3D imax of his mind. He's always care for others more than he would care for himself. He was someone that everyone couldn't help...but love. He was inescapable. He..." This became harder by the minute. I thought it would have gotten easier, but every word kept getting stuck in my throat. Every word assured me that he was dead. He was gone. I finished abruptly, afraid that I would fall apart in front of everyone. Mimi held me tight when I got back to my seat, and I felt the admonishing lump fall to the pit of my stomach. I hope I did that speech justice. I wanted to make him proud.

That afternoon was the burial. It was dreadful, as expected. But something happened that I would have never known. The grave had been set for a few minutes, and a few people were still left. His parents had left, and the only people who were there was Maureen, Joanne, Collin, Mimi and I, and a few other relatives I didn't know of. Maureen had been surprisingly quiet throughout everything. I thought at least she'd have a heart through all this. And then it happened.

"AHHHH!" an outcry. Maureen. She dropped to her knees and covered her face with her hands. She sobbed endlessly. I had never seen her act so crazily before. And it didn't seem like an act. Why would it be an act? Mimi and I stared at her, but we didn't know what to do. We didn't want to bother her, in fear that she would strangle us. We just stood there, as Maureen dug her fingernails to the dirt.

"Mark, WHY? WHY Mark?" she cried, tearing the Earth apart. "You never gave me the chance... you never gave me the chance to tell you... Mark, you never... to tell you... I love you." She put her head to the ground, and I looked at her in shocked. My jaw nearly fell open. Maureen Johnson, we hardly knew you.

Mimi wrapped a loving arm around Maureen, telling her not to worry. That he knew. I looked at Joanne, unsure of what to say. She just stared back, expressionless. I couldn't read her. I didn't know what she was thinking, if she would kick Maureen, or curse upon Mark's grave. She just stood their still, glassy-eyed. Maureen's cries of "why, why, why" still rang through the air. I placed a hand on Joanne, hoping that she would read my mind.

"She doesn't mean it. She's delusional." Okay, I wasn't a good liar. But luckily she didn't shrug me away. I still couldn't figure her out.

The last thing I remembered that day was Collins coming up behind me. He whispered softly, "He was the only one of the guys who didn't suffer from that deadly disease. Yet he paid the ultimate price. What kind of sick world do we live in?"

It was the first time I've heard Collins swear upon this world. And he was right. This wasn't fair.

**Author's Note: I still prefer Forget Regret, shamelessly. Please check that out too, and tell me if I've progressed or not. For Maureen/Mark goodness, please read and review_ I Should Tell You_ under PinkElphaba's name. It's a collaboration of both are writing. **


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